12 Degrees & Skiving

what began as year-long challenge has become perpetual until further notice

This Small Stone

confessions to say only to the dead
can in the meantime be said
to this small stone

it fosters
no judgement
no ties to a mouth
lined with opinions

the stone
who never had ears
can’t proclaim you liar
can’t claim you
teach you
challenge you
shape you

it is after all
a stone

it accepts

the stone
though an object of long past
has no past

it just was
and will be

it is

neither alive nor dead,
the earless stone
has a good character for listening

you needn’t wait
for the stillness
of death
to spill your glass

take this, my confession
to wherever in the dark
we all go
or don’t:

the love everlasting
the bright wings cut
the dreams unspoken
the bifurcated path
the daring done
the undone buttons
the bruising betrayals
the powdered promises
the obliterated heart

all and every failing of a soul
still trapped in time and flesh

the stone
leavens no judgement

so, I’ll tell you everything, little stone
skim you across the water
three time’s a charm

i’ll pretend you’re the golden penny
to land on the lips
of the dead I’ll tell
to bribe those who’ve heard it all before

the ferryman
the priest
the therapist

any and all
who can throw out a silent brace of ripples
and row back time

Tell me wotcha reckon

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This entry was posted on March 1, 2020 by in Poetry.

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